Someone You Never Forget
by queenkhaleesistark
Summary: Hermione or Helene has escaped from Death Eater ruled Wizarding Britain to Paris where she is a auburn haired beauty who works in a travel book shop stumbles across a lovely Parisian cafe and meets a mysterious man named Anton who may know more of her than she first thought. Set in AU Post Deathly Hallows.


Hello, all. This is my new fic called Someone You Never Forget, I aim for it to be at least 9 chapters. Each of the chapters are named after an Elvis song. I'm not French so all the French is from google translate and the translations are corresponding to the numbers at the bottom of the page.

Disclaimer- I do not own any characters that would be recognised, all credit goes to the JK. I own all of the original characters that you don't recognise.

Hope you enjoy! xx

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Someone You Never Forget

Chapter 1- A Little Less Conversation

Sunset dawned on the sleepy streets of Paris, the sky a hazy blanket of oranges and reds. A lone young woman walked the narrow alleys of Paris' extensive maze of nooks and crannies, her feet aching from the day's work and her hands sore from stacking books. She turned down an alley and nestled in between old apartments was a small cafe, it was a quaint place with glass windows that displayed the most decedent treats: freshly made éclairs, crispy, golden looking croissants and delectable pain au chocolat's. It looked like quite an old cafe as well, although with its peeling paint work and its antique state she was intrigued to see what this diamond in the rough had to offer. She looked up at the top of the nestled building, there in cursive writing was the cafe's name _'le petit gâteau'_. The young woman chuckled to herself, the owner had a considerable sense of humour to name his or her cafe 'the small cake'. She pushed the door open and heard a faint ting from the brass bell above the door.

Instantly the warming scent of freshly ground coffee beckoned her, she took a seat on a soft leather seat. As she looked around she spotted the place was not like the usual cafe, the hustle and bustle was non-existent, there was no loud conversation or popular music playing over loud speakers. It was replaced by quiet exchanges and relaxing muzak. A few people sat at the tables or on the stools at the bar. A young couple holding hands over one of the tables, two best friends conversing over a cup of coffee, an elderly pair of ladies exchanging books, however what intrigued her the most was the mysterious young man sat on his own in the corner with his freshly washed dark brown hair the colour much like that of a dark coffee, mesmerising blue eyes that seemed to pool like the sea, wide rimmed glasses and a dazzling smile. He was lost in thought as he scribbled in his tattered notebook with the stub of a pencil.

The woman pulled out her own sketchbook from her bag and started to draw the beauty that was in front of her. She was a one to draw everything that amazed her. The pencil lead grazed the paper in her worn sketchbook that contained pictures of landscapes and animals, as it drew the scene in the quiet cafe. Soon her sparkling green eyes were full of an expression of concentration. Her peachy lips opened as she sighed, a heavy sigh as she blew the hair out of her face. She put the pencil in her mouth and bit hard trying to fuel her creative thoughts. She put the pencil behind her ear and pulled her dark chestnut hair into a messy bun.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a waiter making his way towards her, he was a short man with a Charlie Chaplin like moustache and short black hair. He wore a suit that made him look like a penguin.

1 "Bonjour mademoiselle ici est votre menu" He said to her and handed her what she thought was a menu.

2 "Merci" she said accepting the menu. That's mostly the only French she knew from watching programmes and reading books.

As her eyes scanned over the page her expression turned to that of despair. It was all in French and it would be rude to ask him to repeat it in English. She spoke little French but answering this man would prove a challenge and also the task of reading the menu.

3 "Que voulez-vous?" He said

She was lost...She didn't know how to speak French. About to pull a French to English dictionary out of her bag she felt someone tap on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, miss? Are you having trouble, I can order for you if you'd like" said a kind voice from behind her. The young woman turned around and found her saviour was the mystery man she had been wondering about. His smile was warm and welcoming.

"Yes, please" she choked out, still comprehending his decision to help her.

Her saviour turned to the waiter and spoke in fluent French

4 "Pouvez-vous nous donner une minute s'il vous plaît, monsieur" he said to the waiter, the waiter nodded courteously and walked away.

"Thank you. I've been here three months and I'm surprised myself, I'm still not fluent" she said blushing.

"I'm Anton and I'd love to match a lovely name to that lovely face" he said. He called her lovely that certainly made her heart skip a beat.

"Helene, thank you Anton. If you'd please I'd like to order a latte." She replied.

"Certainly, Helene. 5 Excusez-moi, monsieur" He said putting his hand up and signalling the waiter back.

6 "Bonjour à nouveau, monsieur et mademoiselle. Avez-vous pris une décision?" the waiter asked.

7 "Oui. Un café au lait et un café mocha s'il vous plaît" he replied and the waiter skilfully whipped out his notepad from in his apron and wrote down their order.

"Excellent, monsieur. 8 Il y aura autre chose? Puis-je vous intéresser à des pâtisseries ou gâteaux?" The waiter asked

Helene looked baffled but she knew Anton would cover it.

9 "Je ne devrais pas, mais je le ferai. Une tranche de gâteau au chocolat pour la mademoiselle et un eclair pour moi s'il vous plaît." he replied.

"What was that?" she asked politely

"He asked if we wanted any cakes or pastries. I ordered you a slice of cake, I saw you staring at it. My treat" He replied with a smile.

"Thank you" said Helene thankfully.

Minutes late the waiter returned with their order.

10 " Ici, vous allez, profitez-en!" He exclaimed as he laid their respected coffee in front on them and put the desserts in the middle.

The cups were oversized and ontop of Helene's coffee there was a heart in coffee powder. The chocolate cake was sliced uniformly and had a delicate fondant rose on the top.

"So what is a 11 belle mademoiselle like yourself doing all alone in the city of love?" he asked stirring two spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee.

"There was some things that happened in Britain and I needed a fresh start. I moved into a little flat with my cat Daisy and got a job in a small travel bookshop." she replied sipping on her coffee.

She paused...She savoured the first moment the smooth milky liquid flowed down her throat, nestled in her stomach and send warm chills throughout her body. She gave a contented sigh.

"I love Parisian coffee" Anton replied noticing her reaction.

"So Anton, what's your story?" she asked as she cut into her cake with her fork. Anton studied carefully how she separated the filled layers from the not filled layers and the top icing.

"Why do you eat your cake like that?" Anton chuckled

"I just do. I have not had such luck with cake so I eat the sponge first from the sides then leave the filling and top." She replied

"What such bad luck have you had with cake?" he laughed as he asked her.

"How bad?! It was my cousin Hannah's 5th birthday, my grandma had insisted making the cake. First she forgot eggs, then she forgot baking powder so we got her two plain cakes to transform into a Victoria sandwich. Here comes the worst bit...She accidentally filled it with my granddad's chutney and cream. It was awful," she replied.

"Oh my word that is awful. I feel for you I really do! I grew up in Canada, my father was French and my mother Canadian," he said

They spent a little over three hours talking about their families, likes and dislikes, work, school. They only finished when the waiter asked them to politely leave as it was closing time.

"Where do you live? I'll walk you home," suggested Anton

"A flat near here," she replied as she took a folded jacket from her bag and put it on. She picked up her sketchbook and put it in the bag. Anton returned to his seat to retrieve his satchel and notebook.

They left the cafe with a ding of the brass bell. The two walked up the alley to the main road, unknowingly this alley led them to the Champs-Élysées, which was a picture a beauty lined with spotlights in the crisp evening. As they walked Helene felt herself drawn to him as they walked in silence and their hands drew closer to each other. The cobbled paths were narrow and uneven, just as Helene went to take another step her heel became stuck in between a two cobbles and she was about to fall over but instead found herself in the warm arms of Anton.

"Gotcha," he said lunging forward and catching her.

"I'm such a klutz," She huffed as she checked her heel. It was broken.

"I can give you a piggy back," he offered. Helene pondered that thought for a minute. Her heel was broken and her legs did extremely ache.

"I'll take you up on that offer," she chuckled as he leant down and she jumped on his back. He wrapped his arms around her ankles tightly and the two chuckling returned back to Helene's flat. It was a tall white building with white washed walls, the windows barred with artistic fencing and hung flowers. Helene directed Anton to the entrance. They went around the back of the building into a picturesque cobblestone courtyard with flowering bushes of white roses. It had all the charm, character, and unique magic that was expected from a Parisian neighbourhood.

"You can put me down now Anton," she giggled as he lowered her to the floor. She got to her feet and stood up straight. She dug in her satchel to retrieve her keys that had all manner of key rings on it. She brought them out and inserted the first one into the latch, opening the door with a satisfying click. She turned to say goodbye to her midnight saviour when he put up his hand in protest almost knowing what she was going to say.

"I will walk you up like a true gentleman" he replied. Both of them ascended the steep steps that greeted them as the door opened. They got to the top of the first set of stairs and then turned to climb another. At the top of the second set was a blue door with gold handles that were wearing.

"Home sweet home" she announced.

"So nice to meet you, Helene" Anton smiled a dazzling smile towards her. Suddenly a noise like a gunshot heard, Helene instantly jumped into Anton's arms in fear.

"Whoa, I've got you" He said as she hid her head in his chest. He stroked her hair soothingly. Helene bought her face to see him. His eyes were truly mesmerising as she felt herself being drawn to him and the warm touch of his lips grazed hers. Anton snaked his hands around her waist as their lips melded together. They broke for breathe, Helene's cheeks were scarlet red and Anton's matched the same colour.

"S..Sorry I don't know what came over me" Helene apologised. Anton caressed her cheek, put his finger under her chin and kissed her again.

"I do" he replied. Helene was shocked, she hadn't felt like this in ages.

"Goodnight Anton" Helene said as she hugged him.

"Good night belle mademoiselle" he whispered in her ear. Anton descended back the down the stairs and disappeared out of sight.

Helene opened the door after Anton had left and slid down the door, sitting on the floor. She tossed her head back with a bang on the back of the door, her straight dark chestnut hair turned to golden brown wild curls. Hermione Granger sat on the floor of her flat overwhelmed by the kiss she had just experienced, it reminded her of Draco. They had been together secretly for a year before the war broke out. She had left Britain, changed her name, appearance and personality for Paris and went by Helene Richardson now. It had hurt her to leave him but she had to, death eaters were after her head after Harry had been killed and Voldemort along with him. Ron had been captured and imprisoned in Azkaban and Ginny had committed suicide after Harry's funeral in respect to him and to be with him. She crawled into bed and fell soundly asleep.

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Hello, again. So our mystery girl Helene is actually Hermione! And who is her midnight saviour you ask? Not telling yet but he will make another appearance soon. I hope you liked that and decide to review. Below are the translations:

1 Hello miss here is your menu  
2 Thank You  
3 What would you like?  
4 Can you give us a minute, please, Sir?  
5 Excuse me, Sir  
6 Hello again, Sir and miss. Have you made a decision?  
7 Yes. A latte and cafe mocha please  
8 Will there be anything else? Can I interest you in any pastries or cakes?  
9 I should not, but I will. A slice of chocolate cake for Miss and éclair for me please.  
10 Here you go, enjoy!  
11 beautiful woman

See you next time lovelys xxx


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